Daomu Biji: The Southern Archives

Zhang Haiyan wasn’t sure if this story was related to what he wanted to investigate. But compared to not knowing where to start, this thread at least gave him a direction to go in.

Flies also had something to do with the plague.

The timing of the sailor catching flies in the middle of the night coincided with the time the plague started to spread as the ship arrived in Malacca.

Could Song Chai be the one who spread the plague? Instead of jumping into the sea, did he get off the ship with flies that carried the virus and spread it everywhere?

No, it couldn’t be that coincidental. In all the places where the plague had occurred, the first people who started to show symptoms all happened to be passengers on the Nan’an. If the flies had been the ones to spread the plague, then the results wouldn’t be so precise and the plague would probably be everywhere.

The plague must have been spread by people.

With the help of Steven’s forcible privilege, Zhang Haiyan entered Song Chai’s cabin and lay on his bed, hoping to get some inspiration from his perspective.

But it was fruitless. The bed was very clean. There weren’t any flies, bloodstains, or any signs of graffiti. He had no way to interpret whether Song Chai’s last moments were full of pain, depression, or worry.

While he was lying on Song Chai’s bed and staring into space, Steven was sitting on the other bed looking at him. Zhang Haiyan focused all of his attention on the case.

I can’t be distracted. It’s all a waste of time if I start to worry about Zhang Haixia, or what I stand to gain or lose.

Not even a single minute can be wasted.

He got up and realized that it was wrong to look into Song Chai, because he could see two faint letters engraved on the plank in front of him while he was lying on the bed. (They were bunkbeds so that four people could sleep in a room.)

The two letters were: NP.

There were a lot of possible meanings behind these two letters, but there was only one if they were related to flies.

Nepenthes pharmakon.

It was a potion that the Queen of Egypt gave to Helen. “Ne” meant forgetting and “penthes” meant sorrow. This potion could make people forget their sorrows.

In Malaysia, these two letters represented a plant called Nepenthes.

Song Chai was smuggling Nepenthes, and the flies were food for it. This plant was abundant in Penang, so Song Chai must have encountered the plague when he got off the ship and went there. As a result, he had probably died there.

If he was smuggling plants, then he probably couldn’t remember the Latin spellings based on his academic qualifications. The letters NP may have been written on the bedboard when he packed it at night so as not to forget it.

Zhang Haiyan looked at his watch. He had wasted four hours. The other stories had happened too long ago, so he didn’t think those were worth looking into.

He lit his sixth cigarette and glanced at Steven, who was looking at him patiently.

“Brother, during these three days, you’ll help me with anything, right?”

Steven sat up straight, and seemed to press the pistol at his waist. Zhang Haiyan didn’t know what he was going to do.

*

Meanwhile, He Jianxi had just gotten on a boat called the Baoen, which was anchored at the outermost part of the port. The Baoen was a small barge heading to San Francisco.

The plague in Malacca meant that these kinds of ships would check the passengers before taking them on. They would even stop at the outermost reefs by the port, where small boats would pick up and drop off the passengers.

At that time, small barges leaving from Malacca to San Francisco were called coffin ships. The conditions on the ships were extremely poor, so many people fell ill and died, or went missing because of fighting, robbery, or pirates. The ship owners were known for extortion, human trafficking, and restricting the freedom of the boat passengers. People would also be thrown into the sea whenever shipwrecks occurred. As a result, various tragedies happened one after another.

The purpose of founding the South Sea Archives was mainly to investigate these mysterious maritime cases. When dealing with the ship owners and sailors who killed Chinese people, Zhang Haiyan and the others would resolutely put them to death.

Since they were very good at swimming, they liked to get on the ship in the middle of the sea, and then jump into the water after killing people. That was how they came to be called the “plague gods of the sea”. Even to this day, many South Sea legends mentioned a water ghost with blades in its mouth, which was actually Zhang Haiyan.

As one of the last passengers, He Jianxi was feeling a little overwhelmed.

When he had returned to the winery yesterday, the account room was closed.

He was a little sulky because it meant that the accounts he had collected during the day couldn’t be settled that same day. This made him feel frustrated since he placed importance on making plans in advance.

He dragged his bruised body back to his room—a small attic on the second floor of the building across the street—and began to sort out the accounts.

He counted the money and flattened the banknotes with a book clip. That was when he found a fly stuck between the stack of banknotes.

The fly had been crushed to death by two banknotes, and was all dried out because of the hot weather. He carefully scraped it off with a knife and discovered that a pattern had been drawn on the paper currency with nails. It was a simple sketch of a plague god mask with a blade in its mouth.

The plague god had the body of a snake, and was coiled around an unknown flower. The fly just so happened to be on that flower.

He Jianxi didn’t understand what it meant and didn’t care. Not only was it normal for money to get dirty, but it was also common that some people scribbled on it. As long as it was money, it was valuable no matter what.

He was about to take a shower and go to sleep when someone knocked on his door. He Jianxi looked out the window and saw the winery owner standing down below. He was holding some wine and asking He Jianxi to open the door.

He Jianxi was a little surprised. Although the boss often asked him to drink with him, he would usually tell him about it in advance. Why did he come here all of a sudden?

He Jianxi opened the door to let the boss in. The boss was an Englishman, and he was covered in blood when he came in. The door was closed immediately.

Just as He Jianxi wanted to ask something, the boss took a sip of his wine and pushed He Jianxi into the corner. He leaned against the door and said, “It’s all over, He.”

He Jianxi was puzzled as he watched the blood drip down from the boss’ body.

“You’re hurt?”

“This isn’t my blood.” The boss said. “This is Baixi and the others’ blood.”

Baixi was his colleague, and another Chinese accountant who was older than him.

“What happened to Baixi?” He Jianxi was suddenly a little frightened. The boss looked at the money on the table and He Jianxi explained, “It’s today’s accounts that I’ve collected.”

The boss laughed. “You can even collect this kind of account. He, you never let me down."

He Jianxi was still leaning against the wall, and the boss’ smile made him feel even more frightened. The boss looked around. There was nothing in He Jianxi’s place, but whatever he had looked very tidy.

For some reason, the boss was a little touched. This Chinese was different from everyone else. His soul was pure.

The boss pointed to the money on the table. “That’s your severance pay. Our winery is gone.”

He Jianxi was so shocked that he couldn’t immediately take in the information. “Boss, what’s going on?” He asked. “Where are Baixi and the others?”

His boss suddenly pulled out a pistol from behind, put it in his mouth, and fired.

The huge destructive power blew the back of the boss’s head off, and all the brain matter and shrapnel sprayed on He Jianxi’s door.

He Jianxi’s face was pale, and he was so shocked that he collapsed to the ground.

What He Jianxi didn’t know was that on that day, the British bootleg ban had been lifted, so smuggling alcohol wouldn’t bring in huge profits anymore. British loan sharks wanted full payment of the loans they had given to the bootleg dealers. A British businessman’s private tavern in Malacca went bankrupt. After learning the news, his Chinese accountants notified the Malacca authorities of his accounts.

The announcement of the bootleg ban being lifted officially arrived in Malacca one month later. The British businessman had all of his property confiscated within a month of learning that the decree came into effect. He killed his Chinese accountants and their families with a gun, and then went to another accountant’s place and committed suicide by putting a gun in his mouth.

He Jianxi didn’t know why the boss didn’t kill him. Maybe it was because he didn’t participate in Baixi’s betrayal, or maybe it was because he had collected the last accounts.

But everything disappeared.

All he could think about was what he was going to do with his life. He eventually decided to go to San Francisco to find his cousin who was panning for gold. That was probably the only place where foreign firms needed Chinese accountants.

Fortunately, he was able to buy a ticket for the Baoen.

He Jianxi hurriedly embarked on his journey after sunrise. The time for boarding the boat was tight, so he didn’t even have time to take a good look at the street where he had lived before getting on the Baoen.